


Don't Let Them See

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Execution, Family, Grief/Mourning, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ned's thoughts as he falsely confesses and faces death. He reflects on his honor, failures, family, and his eldest daughter in particular.</p><p>A prompt fic. The Prompt:</p><p>I want a Sansa/Ned story.  It can be anything, some cute moment from her childhood, some painful example of just how uncomfortable/out-of-touch he is with her, his thoughts/worries about her as he sat in the black cell, what was running thru his mind as her screams were the last thing he heard in this world, or a combination of all of the above.  THAT is what I want, because their relationship remains so heartbreakingly UNSATISFYING and incomplete to me and I need something to fix that…..a new head canon, if you will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Them See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



> Thanks to Bluecichlid for her beta-work and to Tommyginger for her prompt!
> 
> Alright, this is a response to my friend Tommyginger's prompt to me: I want a Sansa/Ned story. It can be anything, some cute moment from her childhood, some painful example of just how uncomfortable/out-of-touch he is with her, his thoughts/worries about her as he sat in the black cell, what was running thru his mind as her screams were the last thing he heard in this world, or a combination of all of the above. THAT is what I want, because their relationship remains so heartbreakingly UNSATISFYING and incomplete to me and I need something to fix that…..a new head canon, if you will.

The guards dragged him up to the dais. _Forgive me, Robert. But my children…_ He thought he saw Arya in the crowds. He knew she’d evaded Cersei and Joffrey, but he hoped she’d be out of the city by now, safely making her way back home. He didn’t want her to see his shame. He wanted her far from the Lannisters’ clutches. Varys had little birds everywhere. Littlefinger and Cersei had all sorts of spies of their own. There was still time for Arya to be found. Joffrey hated her. She needed to get as far away as possible as soon as possible.

Ned never felt more grateful for his youngest daughter’s quickness than he had when Varys told him she’d evaded Ser Meryn. Catching those cats apparently did wonders for her. What were some of the things she kept repeating? Quick as a snake? Silent as a shadow? Some things along those lines.

What friends did she have to help her, though? Eddard’s household was gone, more or less. Perhaps Vayon Poole and some of the others got out as well. He wished Jory were still alive. Jory could have helped her. _What friends do we have here?_ All the friends he’d thought he’d made were traitors. The one person who helped him now was the eunuch who convinced him to make this false confession. Who would not help him escape. But at least he was honest about it.

He’d see Jon soon, at least. He knew that. The agreement was made. His honor for his life and the lives of his daughters. He’d go to the Wall. It was an idea he’d entertained during his youth, before Brandon died and Winterfell and Catelyn became his. He was of the North. He could watch over the realm and his blood. Jon and Benjen. Perhaps his children might visit him.

He could finally tell Jon about his mother. He’d promised Jon. _Damn my promises._

Robb would be Lord of Winterfell now. _Gods, Robb._ He was just a boy, really. A boy who wished to be a man. A good lad who could become a great man. But it was too soon to expect that of him. He was a boy. “ _A boy with an army,” Varys whispered._

What would they think of him, his sons? He was going to give the woman who crippled Bran control of the kingdom. Would Bran know that Joffrey wasn’t the true king? Would he think his father a traitor to the realm for plotting to overthrow the king? Or would he think his father a traitor to his child by allowing the woman who hurt him to seize power?

Rickon was only four. He would have no father. Last time Ned saw him, he was three, crying, begging Ned and the girls not to leave. The boy insisted that they’d never come back, never see each other again. Eddard insisted to his son that he was wrong. But it seemed the boy might have been right. _Will he even remember me?_ Eddard wondered. _He was but three when I saw him last._

Ned looked up at the high dais. That High Septon was saying something. Joffrey was there, and Cersei. They were grinning. And then beside them… _Cat?!_

They couldn’t have Cat, could they? It wasn’t possible. Had some Lannister forces found her after she lost Tyrion? How? She was supposed to be in the Vale. Why had the Spider not mentioned this? How… 

 _No…_ Ned blinked. _It can’t be Cat._ His mind was still hazy. The Black Cells, the milk of the poppy that came later. His mind wasn’t quite right.

“Confess your treasons!”

 _Now it’s time._ Eddard took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted his head. “I--- I am Eddard St-Stark---“

“Louder!” One of the guards jabbed him in the back. Not hard, really, but in his state, Ned could have toppled over from it.

He summoned every bit of energy he had to speak. “I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King,” _the king I am now betraying,_ “and I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men.”

These were not his gods. He was of the blood of the First Men, a Stark of Winterfell, a creature of the North. He worshipped at a Heart Tree, in a godswood. Those were his gods. _Could I do this before a Heart Tree, with the eyes of the Old Gods before me?_ Eddard didn’t know.

He spoke louder. “I betrayed the faith of the king and my friend, Robert. I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself.”

 _Lies. All lies._ Ned wondered what Arya would think, if she could see this. He could remember her jumping on her sister’s back. _“Liar, liar, liar!”_

Every word a lie. Ned meant no harm to any of Robert’s sons or Joffrey. Joffrey wasn’t Robert’s son. Ned had tried to protect Cersei’s children. He’d given her the mercy of a warning. He refused to steal the children from their beds as Robert died. 

He didn’t want the Iron Throne. He never wanted the Iron Throne. And even if he did, Robert’s sons were no threat to him on that account. They were all bastards. Stannis. Stannis was the heir. _Liar. Liar._

“Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say---“ _But not the Old Gods of my fathers and the First Men. Even stating this as truth is a lie. Don’t let my lies carry on to the godswood. Don’t let them hear._ “---Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods---“ _Not my gods. Not my gods._ “---Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

A rock came at him. Blood dripped down his face. But it didn’t hurt so much. Not compared to the words he’d just said. _My honor is gone. Liar. Liar. Liar._

What would he tell Jon, when he saw him? How could he explain? What would Jon think of Ned and all his lies? Would he curse him? _“You sent me here to freeze and die, keeping all this from me for so long. Now you’ve given the throne to the people who crippled Bran. You lied.”_ They said that when a Brother said his vows, his crimes were washed away. But Jon was young. And he went so long without knowing the truth. _“I put a false king on the Iron Throne. I handed the country to the Lannisters. I lied to you your entire life and sent you here. I made promises. I just tried to protect everyone, Jon.”_

He remembered Varys’s words about Rhaenys. And about Prince Aegon. Smashed to bits. Children slaughtered. He just didn’t want any more slaughter.

Ned blinked through the blood as it trickled down into his eyes. He looked up at the dais. The High Septon’s crown cast rainbow lights as he knelt.

“This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men, here in this holy place,” the septon said. _No,_ Ned thought, _I’ve committed them here._ “The gods are just, yet Baelor the Blessed taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?”

There was a long pause. Then Joffrey spoke. “My mother bids me to let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa begged mercy for her father.”

 _Oh gods. Sansa._ That was Sansa there. His Sansa. How could that be Sansa?

But it was Sansa, gowned in silk a few shades lighter than her Tully blue eyes, her hair curled and styled, silver on her wrists. She looked nothing and everything like his daughter. But she wasn’t… Where was the little girl, begging to be a princess? She was so _tall_. How had she grown so tall? When? He’d last seen her… How long ago? Days? Weeks? Had she become a woman in mere days? But last he’d seen her, she was wailing about wanting Joffrey and the beautiful, golden-haired sons she’d give him. Telling him the answer to the riddle of the Lannisters without knowing it.

She had her mother’s look. The cheekbones, the eyes, the hair. But she had the Stark height, it seemed. Arya looked like Lyanna, so much so that it sometimes broke his heart. But Ned saw a bit of his sister in his elder daughter now too. In the mouth. Catelyn had thin lips. Sansa had a pout. Lyanna had a pout as well, one Ned could remember so well, for Lyanna pouted so often. When Father said she could not train at arms. When Father insisted on the betrothal to Robert. When she wasn’t allowed to go exploring with her brothers. When she had to stay in and stitch. So much like Arya. But Arya, ironically, didn’t have that pout. She had the passionate dark eyes, skinny frame, long face, and dark hair. But she had her mother’s mouth.

Sansa pouted, though. Not now. But she did often enough. When Arya got away with misbehaving. When Sansa didn’t get the new gown she wanted. Lyanna’s mouth. Right there. 

He’d never realized it before. And it shocked him. Sometimes, when he’d observed Sansa, he’d felt near disbelief that she was his child. She was just so southern, especially for a girl raised at Winterfell. Ned’s mother and sister were so wild, so tempestuous, so dark. Sansa was all blue eyes, red hair, daintiness, delicate manners.  Such a _lady._ Septa Mordane and Catelyn always noted this with pride. She seemed so delicate. But Ned often found himself wishing that he saw more of her wolfsblood in her.

 _Or perhaps it was there. I just didn’t see it._ He remembered Varys. _“She came to court a few days ago to plead that you be spared. A pity you couldn’t have been there, you would have been touched.”_

Ned swallowed. _A weak, delicate child would not plead for my life before the court._ Last time Sansa went before the court to settle a matter, her wolf was killed. _By me._

He remembered it so clearly. It was Ned that brought his daughter forward before the king, queen, prince, and the rest of the royal retinue. He was so sure that she’d repeat the story she’d told him that first night, corroborate her sister’s story. The night she was brought back from camp, she seemed muddled and he’d smelled wine on her breath, and she recited the events in between sobs. It had tried his patience then. He was unhappy with her for drinking. Her mother always boasted about Sansa’s good behavior, but clearly his eldest had broken the rule about wine. 

That morning, though, she’d seemed less muddled. She’d dressed herself up. Ned was sure she was better. If need be, he could call on her to tell the truth to the court.

And then she’d said she couldn’t remember. She’d looked terrified. Joffrey, Robert, Cersei were right there. Everyone, really. Then Cersei called for Lady’s skin.

 _Did I plead for Lady?_ He’d asked Robert. _“For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister.”_ Beyond that, there wasn’t much. He challenged Robert to at least do it himself. His friend declined. And then Eddard had Sansa taken away and went to find the pup. He wondered how much Sansa had pleaded for him. 

Judging by the smile on her face and her encouraging nod, it was enough to believe herself successful. Joffrey smiled as well. Right at her. _My daughter pled for me. She may have helped save my life,_ he realized, _but I couldn’t even save her wolf. No. I wouldn’t. I could have._ He’d been alone with Lady. He could have snuck her out. He could have fought Robert even more on it. Threatened to go back to Winterfell. Promised to send Lady back to Winterfell. He was Hand of the King. It was within his power to save the pup.

Sansa pleaded more for Lady’s life that day. That day Eddard pulled her out in front of the court to call her betrothed a liar, in front of everyone. _Why did I do that? Joffrey was right there. Cersei was right there. Why did I expect her to do that?_ He wondered if Cersei would have even thought of Lady if Sansa had not been there.

_She went before the court again, because of my mistakes. She pleaded for my life. She’s tried to save the Lord of Winterfell. I killed her wolf._

Another shame he would now have to live with. That, and the fact that Sansa would now have to marry this vicious, bastard child of incest. No doubt when Joffrey spared him, Sansa would feel more compelled to love him. It would make the heartbreak of learning what he was that much worse. _I should have warned her. I should have warned her long before this happened. Gods, what is he going to do to my little girl?_ He thought of Lady’s sweet, trusting yellow eyes, right before Ned slit her throat. He thought of Sansa’s sweet, trusting blue ones.

 _“Sansa has to marry Joffrey. We can’t have the Lannisters suspecting our loyalty.”_ That was what he told Cat. He’d been hesitant at first. He’d heard tales that the boy was selfish, vain, and a bully. Sansa thought he was Prince Aemon. Even after the incident at the Trident, she’d convinced herself of it because the prince gave her pretty compliments and the queen let her sew with her and gave her fine gifts. 

He remembered her the morning after the Hand’s Tourney. She wouldn’t stop gushing about it all. “He sat next to me and talked to me about the tourney. He told me how lovely I was and walked me about the grounds and told me the names of all the knights. At the feast, he showed me how to eat oysters, had the singers perform all my favorite songs. Then, at the end of the knight, he had the Hound escort me back through the city so I’d be safe.”

Ned had cringed at this. But he didn’t want to upset his daughter. He was angry with Septa Mordane for leaving Sansa. The woman had collapsed, drunk, right there at the banquet table. The thought of Sansa with Sandor bloody Clegane infuriated him.

“Did he hurt you?” Ned demanded of his daughter.

“N-no, Father. He, um, he told me a story.” Then she got this faraway look in her eye.

 _Sandor Clegane escorting her through King’s Landing. The man butchers children._ That should not have been his daughter’s escort. She should have had proper guards.

But she didn’t. _I didn’t send any. Why didn’t I send any? I just sent Mordane and Jeyne Poole. How were an old woman and a little girl supposed to guard my daughter through the streets of King’s Landing?_

It was no wonder Sansa thought Joffrey was a gallant lover. He’d provided a guard for her when her own father hadn’t.

_I killed her wolf, her protector. And I threw her to the lions and the dogs and King’s Landing._

His daughter was smiling. _No wonder. I didn’t warn her. Not truly. Not until it was too late._ He’d sat with Arya and warned her. “We’ve come to a dangerous place.” But Arya was unlikely to spend her whole life at court. Sansa was to be queen. _Why didn’t I sit with her? Why didn’t I speak to her?_

 _Oh gods. The Lannister woman._ Ned looked into her glittering green eyes. _She’s spent more time with Sansa since we arrived in the city than I have._

He’d not been able to stand seeing the look on his eldest daughter’s face. Every time he saw that lip quivering, heard those sobs, he’d felt the urge to break everything in his path. He found himself cursing Robert. He hadn’t wanted to curse Robert, to hate him. Robert was his friend, his brother, his king. So he looked away. He looked away from that constant reminder that sat in his home and cried.

She kept crying. She kept looking at him with those accusing eyes. She kept fighting with her sister. Ned was so consumed with finding out what happened to Jon Arryn, what the Lannisters were plotting, with Robert’s excesses… _Did I ever apologize to her?_

When news came of Bran being saved by his wolf, Ned knew then the mistake he’d made. _But I didn’t tell her. I didn’t apologize. I didn’t warn her. I left her to Septa Mordane. Even after the woman got drunk and collapsed, leaving Sansa without an escort, I left Sansa to Mordane. Mordane and Cersei. I’ve left everyone to Cersei._

Ned took deep breaths and waited. Joffrey turned around and spoke. “But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Illyn, bring me his head!” 

He heard his daughter’s screams. He couldn’t look at her now. _Close your eyes, Sweetling. Don’t look. Please. You shouldn’t see my head severed from my neck. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t look. Sansa, Arya, don’t look. Please, gods, don’t let my children see this. Catelyn, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon… Don’t look. I couldn’t bear to have you see this. You shouldn’t have to see what’s left of me. Jon… I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you before you left._ He breathed heavy. _Girls, don’t look. Your brothers and mother don’t have to see. Jon doesn’t have to see. You shouldn’t either._

He barely felt the blade. The worst was the last couple of seconds, because he could see the ground coming closer. He could feel only his head falling. _Why am I not dead?_ _Why aren’t the screams gone?_ he asked himself as he flew towards the steps of the pavilion. 

And then he was gone.


End file.
